Let's play hookey today
by GravityArtBitch
Summary: AU: Spencer Reid and Derek Morgan attend the same catholic college, Father Gideon and badass Garcia  next chapter  present     It'll be several chapters, so bear with me plz!
1. Chapter 1

He let the satchel fall and plopped himself to the ground leaning on the marble back of some nameless gravestone. Two rows of rugged blackthorn bushes (or Prunus spinosa as he automatically specified) and a solid mossy wall of a gothic church formed a perfect hiding place; crimson cuts on his white uniform shirt and aching elbows proved it to be almost inaccessible.

Ergo: he finds himself in the middle of the class ranting cheerfully about the Renaissance (again) and then a sudden voice cutting him off (again) while the rush of humiliation makes him blush from the tiptoes to the earlobes. He traces the sound and voila, target locked: Derek Morgan, providing an illustration of an ideal bully.

And Spencer Reid, a spherical nerdy klutzy wunderkind in a vacuum. Totally out of place and terminally out of mind for thinking he can fit in here or anywhere.

Quod erat demonstrandum.

When Father Gideon offered him to come and stay with him for a semester in Asmos Catholic College he grabbed this chance hoping for a change from his hectic Vegas life. He needed a shelter where he could spend some quality time sharping his mind and shutting himself off from unbearable family issues.

It seemed like a hell of a mistake right now.


	2. Chapter 2

As if it wasn't enough for the day the same smooth voice called out:

"Pe-ne-lo-plum!"

"Don't call me a plum if you won't eat me", another voice answered nonchalantly. A female?

Totally against his will and common sense he tried to sneak a look around.

There they were, on the biggest tomb under the Angel of Wrath's wings, one's dark skin strikingly contrast to the other's blonde hair and pale face.

"Some magic for me, you got it?"

"Always, that's why you love me, ne?"

"Love ya", Derek Morgan smacked girl on the forehead and retreated to the shadowed alley, immersing into the graveyard like ink into the already stained paper.

Whatever "the magic" was, Spencer couldn't have identified it from the distance.

He breathed out only to hold it again as the metal words rang dangerously near.

"Come out, little mouse. Hate stalkers."

Entangled in his own limbs he tried to force through, though his mind was drastically against it.

As he stumbled stepping on the scene the blonde lifted her head from the laptop.

She was such an overly detailed creature his gaze blurred for a moment.

"Petrificus Totalus?" she inquired without a smile. "Oh, guess, guys like yourself do not read Harry Potter."

"You know me?" He nervously covered embroidery on the upper pocket with trembling fingers.

"The Web knows you, just you wait, kitten." She typed gracefully and clicked "enter". "Oh, sweetie, quelle domage! Dad left you to care for your schizophrenic Mom…Your intellect being 187 and yet here you are miserable to the core hiding from reality in the bush…Let me be your fairy godmother."

"Your point being?"

"My point being", she mimicked him," our mutually profitable economic relations."

"What are you selling?"

"Refined happiness, cash-and-delivery", she smiled crookedly.

"You know I am at the higher risk group as a child of a single-parent family. The probability of becoming an addict to whichever drug is over 60%."

"Your choice, smartass," she shrugged. "Here's my card if you change your mind."

She left him staring at the elaborate piece of paper, wondering if Derek was actually miserable too.


	3. Chapter 3

Occupied with chaotic thoughts he made his way to the dormitory which seemed lifeless for the moment.

Unwillingly he had to admit, that he didn't hate Derek. Instead he was actually curious (the interest being certainly pure scientific). The annoyance with himself and the object of his research brought him to the shut door of Morgan's room.

Not sure exactly that he tried to achieve he pulled out a paper clip from the depths of his satchel and picked the lock (a trick he learned accidentally from some Brooklyn girl on his one and only short trip to the summer camp). Now _that_ seemed more like a criminal intent (though he felt proud of himself for performing such manipulation so efficiently).

Inside the shaded room he reached for the pocket flash unable to believe all his expectations proved false. Order reigned there. It looked almost military clean, with all those accurate piles of textbooks and stationery on the table, neat rows of various books on the shelves including a dog-eared copy of Kurt Vonnegut's _Slaughterhouse-Five. _

Family pictures, some sport awards and finally a small crucifix, - Derek was the opposite of a troublemaker, so why in hell would he torture Spencer like that?

If he hadn't been so emotionally worn-out, he would never ever walked to Derek's bed, or stretched himself on it, burying his nose into the blanket. The smell of wool, sweat and bitter chocolate made him somewhat dizzy, his guts swirling from sudden hunger pain.

He hid his palms under the pillow surrendering to the sweet wave of sleep.

His body loosened bit by bit, cell by cell, until he became a numb mess of nonfunctional limbs.

Something sultry and wet touched the spot at the back of his neck, cool fingertips brushing his curls aside. It felt as if snowflakes landed on his bare skin turning into drops of boiling water, burning him throughout. He wondered for a second where did his shirt disappear, but it was too irrelevant to dwell on it.

Next his spine quivered like it'd been wired up, electrified by some unknown power. His lungs were begging for oxygen, but he didn't dare to breathe in, but when he did, the heavy scent of cocoa beans made him come in a wink.

He had to wake up from this wicked dream.


End file.
